


Never too late

by captainhurricane



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-05 23:03:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1835443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainhurricane/pseuds/captainhurricane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>post-ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never too late

**Author's Note:**

> shameless fluff.

They’re exhausted when it’s all over. They don’t stop running for days, for weeks as they leave Kirkwall behind, some part of the journey on Isabela’s new and improved ship. Doesn’t she sail beautifully, yells Isabela into the headwinds and looks happier now that the city of chains isn’t pressing against her anymore. Hawke claps her shoulder and agrees, laughter lines appearing with his big, wide grin as he stands next to her and takes on the sights. The only ones on deck with them are Merrill and Varric, the former tangling herself a little too high but a careful grin too happy on her slender elven face that no one says anything. The latter sitting on a crate bigger than him and writing, of course writing. He’s peeking once in a while at Hawke with a raised eyebrow and a shake of his head. Hawke shares a look with Isabela, shrugs and then marches from her perch to Varric, who lays down his quill and takes a sniff at the salty ocean air.

”You know, if you want to write a fierce romance with me in the lead, you only need to ask for advice,” says Hawke and gets himself a barrel, sitting down with a clink of his boots. Varric chuckles.

”Hawke, you know I would. I merely keep wondering why you’re not with the broodier of our elves. Especially after we couldn’t keep you two apart long enough to yell, look out, a dragon!” Varric says, the scratching of his quill continues. Hawke laughs but his laughter has a strain in it, its tone maybe a little too high.

”He doesn’t do so well on the open sea,” Hawke says then, his grin shrinking into a small, uncharacteristic smile. Varric raises an eyebrow and stops writing long enough to give Hawke a curious look.

”So it has nothing to do with the fight you two had in the harbour were we parted with Blondie?” Varric keeps his tone light, but worry shines through anyway. Hawke sighs.

”He- look. He’s feeling bad about certain things, I’m feeling bad about certain things. I can save a city- maybe, on a good day- but I can’t, I don’t know how to deal with the way he’s feeling,” he admits and lays a heavy blue gaze on Varric. ”You’re the writer, you inspect people on a daily basis. And you’ve talked to Fenris more than I have.”

”So it has everything to do with your fight and the doom of the war we might have accidentally started,” says Varric gently. Hawke grimaces, looks away like that would help him unhear what his dwarven friend is about to say.

”Look, Hawke. The elf loves you. He loves you enough to fight for a cause he doesn’t believe in, for people he actively hates.” Varric smiles. ”For a city that he didn’t like living in. Be a big champion, my friend and go talk to the elf. His brooding is giving me a headache.” Hawke huffs, but hops off the crate, waves to Merrill and vanishes below deck.

Fenris has curled up in his cot, the light of his lyrium markings dim and eyes tightly closed. Hawke knocks on the door and steps in when Fenris grumbles and buries his head under his pillow.

”Go away, Hawke.”

”Nah.” Hawke says cheerfully and takes off his jacket and boots. All the shuffling makes Fenris reveal his face and turn around. His eyes look bloodshot and lips dry but Fenris could be bathed in the blood of his enemies and Hawke wouldn’t care.

”Hawke, seriously,” Fenris says, voice rough from disuse and too much sleep.

”Nah,” Hawke repeats and comes to the cot, reaches a gentle hand to Fenris’ forehead and Fenris lets him, expression softening.

”I came to apologize because I have been a complete idiot, Maker strike me down right now,” Hawke says, fingertips trailing down one dark cheek. ”If it’s not too late. Move over a bit,” Hawke continues and shifts to tuck himself against Fenris, chest to chest.   
”It’s not too late,” Fenris murmurs, nuzzling Hawke’s jaw despite blinking tiredly at him.

”You sure?” Hawke gets an arm around Fenris’ waist, pressing a kiss on his nose.

”It’s never too late. You brought me into this and I’m afraid I don’t intend to leave any time soon,” Fenris murmurs.

”So, I’m sorry I’m a foolish oaf but I do these things out of love, you know,” Hawke says, caressing Fenris’ slender, bare back. Fenris sighs.

”You’re full of love, we know,” he says with a sardonic twist to his voice but he then drags Hawke’s head down for a kiss and Hawke can’t say he minds.


End file.
